


Poison Underneath

by sunny_sideways



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, Episode: s03e19 Letharia Vulpina, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 23:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1204924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunny_sideways/pseuds/sunny_sideways
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles stirs on Deaton's operating table, Scott wants so badly to believe it’s really him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poison Underneath

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick coda to Episode 19, Letharia Vulpina. Will take place before Episode 20, and will contain spoilers from the preview of that episode.

When Stiles stirs, Scott wants so badly to believe it’s really him.

_The fox is poisoned, but it’s not dead. Not yet._

Stiles is laying on the operating table, his wrists and ankles tied down. Scott had protested but Deaton was insistent, and every time Scott asked him to loosen the ropes, all he could see was his best friend in the world twisting the sword deeper into his gut. Stiles wasn’t a threat to them, not really. It was the nogistune, it was in Stiles and taking over his mind and Scott had to keep reminding himself that Stiles was as much a victim in this as anyone else.

_The poison will make it too weak to come to the surface, but I would remain wary. Stiles will only be able to keep it down for a day, maybe two._

It had been six hours since Deaton used the poison on Stiles. Six hours since he wrenched the sword out of Scott’s stomach. Five since Kira woke up and eventually went home at Scott’s insistence that it was okay. Only two since Stiles’s breathing picked up, since his heart rate shot through the roof and he stayed unconscious through a nightmare or a panic attack or whatever it was that made him scream every time Scott tried to touch him.

Scott had talked to the Sheriff, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell him what was really wrong with Stiles. Not when they still had no way to fix it. So he told him that Stiles was with him, that he was okay and that Scott wouldn’t let him wander off again.

His heart ached for the Sheriff.

Three dead at the station, his son disappearing every chance he got, and immediate suspension orders from Agent McCall himself for suspicious activity relating to a fatal bomb delivered straight to the Sheriff’s desk.

Scott’s not sure if the nogistune had been trying to kill him, or maybe Stiles had fought for enough control to get his dad away from the station. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that this thing is using his best friend to kill people, to almost kill him, maybe even to try to kill his dad. Even if they do get Stiles back – and Scott sure as hell won’t stop fighting until they do – it will never be the same. Nobody would ever be able to look at him the same, and Stiles would never be able to look at himself the same.

Scott is just about to call his friend’s name when Stiles finally turns his head.

“Scott?”

Stiles blinks at him slowly, his voice groggy and quiet. It takes him a long moment to try to move his hands, his heart rate spiking when he notices the bonds.

Scott takes a small step forward, hanging back from the table but still within arm’s reach. It’s hard to ignore a decade of trusting the person in front of him with his life. A few days can’t change the pull Scott has to check up on Stiles, to make sure he’s okay.

“Yeah, Stiles. What do you remember?”

Stiles stares up at him for long enough for Scott to see the wheels turning. He’s putting together what happened slowly and it’s painful to watch. Scott has to shove his hands in his pocket to keep from reaching out to him. Has to clench his mouth shut because he wants so bad to tell Stiles that it’s okay. To tell him it wasn’t him and they’re still the same, but he can’t. Not yet.

“I –” Stiles takes a shuddering breath and turns his head away from Scott, eyes clenching shut, “I know you have no reason to believe me,” his voice is so quiet Scott would have to strain to hear it if he were human, “It’s me. I – I don’t know what happened, but it’s gone for now. It’s me.”

His voice is as defeated as it was in the hospital, what? Two days ago? It feels like it could have been a lifetime. Stiles doesn’t trust himself, and he doesn’t think Scott will trust him either.

Maybe he doesn’t.

“I’m going to untie you,” Scott responds finally, stepping forward with cautious hands raised and cutting the ties around Stiles’s feet first. He half expects Stiles to kick out, get him in the gut, hurt him and mock him like before.

_You really have to learn not to trust a fox._

Stiles doesn’t move.

When Scott gets up to his wrists, unties the first one slowly and then moves to the other side where Stiles is facing, Stiles just turns his head around and refuses to look at him. There’s a long pause after he’s untied, and Scott remembers Derek talking to him on the roof. Telling him to focus and breathe in and see what he senses, what he feels.

Scott doesn’t even have to focus to smell it now. Self-loathing, terror, guilt. The anxiety is still there, bubbling under the surface like it’s trying to break through and Stiles is fighting so hard to push it back. Scott briefly wonders if that’s what the nogistune smells like on Stiles – anxiety. He sensed it on the roof that night at the hospital, strong and overwhelming and it was the night Stiles could have killed them all. And now it’s pushed down, just like the nogistune, but it’s still fighting tooth and nail to boil back up.

It reassures Scott a little to know that Stiles is still fighting it, that he hasn’t given up yet.

He moves his hand to wrap it around Stiles’s wrist, and he isn’t sure if Stiles can still feel all that pain the nogistune took.

Stiles rips away from Scott’s touch like he’s been burned, though, and the movement causes him to lose his balance and fall off the table in a way that is so very _Stiles_ that it hurts. For all that he had been small and still just a minute before, Stiles is all motion now. He’s breathing heavily, heart racing, and when Scott quickly goes around the table and crouches next to him, Stiles is scrambling backwards until his back hits the wall, shaking hands stretched out in front of him.

“Don’t – don’t,” he pants, bowing his head and squeezing his eyes shut, “I’m so sorry, Scott I’m so sorry, I didn’t – I tried so hard to fight it.”

He’s crying now and Scott feels a surge of powerful anger rushing over him, because _this_ is what the nogistune is doing to his best friend. He tries to reach out again, but Stiles shakes his head quickly and presses back further towards the wall.

“Stiles –”

“Don’t touch me! Please, please I – I don’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to, I swear, I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I know–”

“I was there – I – I mean, I was awake. I could feel it hurting you and I _begged it_ to stop, Scott. I’m so sorry, oh god, and _Isaac_ – what did I _do_ –”

“ _Stiles_!”

He cuts off instantly at Scott’s yell, cowering into himself and cradling his head in his arms, knees pulled to his chest. Scott closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, blinking back tears and scrubbing at his cheek when the liquid tips over his eyelid. He finally takes his chance, reaching forward and gripping Stiles’s shoulder, his thumb gliding over the skin on his neck.

“It’s the nogistune,” he says quietly after Stiles’s breathing slows a little, “It’s not you. It’s using you, Stiles. This isn’t your fault.”

Stiles looks up at him then, eyes wet and pleading, “I hurt people, Scott. I hurt _you_ –”

“I’m _okay_ ,” he interrupted forcefully, squeezing Stiles’s shoulder.

“I could have killed you,” Stiles whispers, “I could have killed my dad.”

“You didn’t, and you won’t. We’re gonna figure this out, Stiles. I promise.”

Stiles closes his eyes again, shaking his head minutely. He doesn’t believe him, and honestly, Scott isn’t so sure he believes himself. But Stiles is his best friend, and this thing – this _fox_ – can’t have him. While he’s still alive to do it, there’s nothing in the world Scott won’t do to save Stiles from this. Even if it all goes to hell after, even if they’re never quite right again and Stiles isn’t ever himself again, Scott will do everything he can to make sure they’re all at least alive to try.

“Hey, look at me,” Scott shifts his hand and flicks his thumb on the side of Stiles’s jaw until he opens his eyes, bloodshot and damp but very much _him_ , “It’s going to be okay.”

Later, after Stiles has apologized a hundred more times and Scott finally feels like he’s able to trust that this is his Stiles again, they will decide they can’t stay at Deaton’s office for forever. Scott will tell him wearily that the poison will only keep the nogistune at bay for so long, and Stiles will flat out refuse to go home, or to Scott’s house, or anywhere he can hurt anyone he cares about.

It’s how they end up in front of a mental institution on the outskirts of Beacon Hills.

Scott’s gut is gnawing at him, telling him _this is bad, this is such a bad idea_ , but Stiles won’t go anywhere else, and he won’t let Scott follow him. He tries to get it through to Stiles that he can’t help him while he’s in here, that they will probably take away his phone and that Stiles may not be able to reach him if he’s in trouble. But Stiles is insistent that this is the right thing, he only sees it as a way to stop himself from hurting the people he loves, and Scott really doesn’t have anything to refute that.

If he were in Stiles’s position, he’d probably be insisting the same thing.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to get back into Stiles’s jeep and drive it back to his house, leaving his best friend behind and alone. What does make it easier is the knowledge that they still have a little bit of time, that Scott can still work with Deaton and Derek and the Argents to get Stiles back. He has a new determination now, keeps flickering back to Stiles’s twisted expression as he shoved the sword into Scott, and he vows he will _never_ see the nogistune wearing Stiles’s face again.

Scott won’t let it have him.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Please feel free to leave feedback, but most importantly: thanks for reading!


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